Computing

A Flag is not a chequered band of colorsWith a mosaic of celestial bodiesOr a selection of nature’s or man’s designs and derivatives.

It is stream of conscienceAn ethos of a peopleIt is the high tide of sacrificeThat surges upto the skies to flutter.

It is the dream that filtered through long nights of bondage.In the whirr of its flutters you listenThe hoarse voices of martyrsEmbracing every kind of death without demurReverberating to the limits of cosmosMaking their promises to the future.

In its shade lies the strength of a nationNot a piece of land with some connotation.